That’s how long it’s been since our amazing girl went to be with Jesus.
It’s only been a week, but it feels so much longer.
There’s an emptiness within my heart and our lives, a huge, gaping hole left behind.

I see La Petite Belle everywhere.
I see things she would like and hear things she would think are funny or not funny. I remember movies that she wanted me to take her to. I think of the guest list she made for her 17th birthday party and how excited she was once her doctor told her, just a few weeks ago, that she could go back to her home town for a weekend if she felt well. So many memories flood my mind. They don’t stop. I don’t want them to ever stop. Thinking of them stopping actually brings tears to my eyes. I don’t want this to “get easier” because that would mean the memories of her have faded.
I hear her voice. The song she wrote from her hospital bed a couple of years ago, as she went through her bone marrow transplant process, replays over and over again. It literally wakes me in my sleep. I think of the last time I heard her voice. I struggle with remembering everything she said that Sunday before she was intubated for the last time. I know she said she loved me and I try to remember what it sounded like. I’ve watched countless videos on my phone of her from the past couple of years and we’ve gone through what seems likes thousands of pictures of her. She truly was a ball of joy wrapped in skin.
I don’t know how to do this.
I don’t know how to handle grief. I even hate that word – “grief.”
“Handling grief” … these words pressure me to get over this, to move on.
People don’t want to be around someone going through this stuff. They don’t know what to say. There really are no words and that’s okay. Actually, that’s better. I’m definitely not good company. My fun self has been replaced with brokenness.
I realize she’s in heaven, a better place, no more suffering, no more pain, finally with her Savior. I’m thankful to have this assurance. But, I’m not ready to “rejoice” at this moment as some would say I should be doing. In fact, rejoicing is the last thing I want to do. I know that I’ll be able to rejoice again. I’m just not there yet.
I just want to talk to my baby girl again. I want to hold her hand. I want to hear her sweet voice and laugh with her. I want to snuggle with her like she requested we do almost every single day for the past year.
I know that she’s okay, but we’re the ones who aren’t.
This emptiness remains. This hole remains. It will always be there.
God will hold us. I have no doubt about that. He’s been faithful to us and He always will be.
There are no answers to why this happened. I will never understand this. I truly thought she would be the one who made it. She was the strong one. She had overcome so much. One doctor told us that she had a “reserve and resilience about her” that made her so unpredictable. She always pulled through the toughest of situations. Her spirit remained strong, but her body couldn’t take any more.
And, when the nurse backed off on some of her sedation that last night we were able to really communicate with her, Beau asked her if she was ready to be with Jesus. She opened her eyes and nodded her head “yes,” a response we hadn’t seen much of due to the amount of sedation she was on. It definitely reassured us that she was ready to go. My girl finally got her healing she so desperately wanted and fought for.
This morning I read a verse I’ve read a million times before, but it had new meaning to me today.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding. -Proverbs 3:5
Although I don’t understand, I will continue to trust.
I will trust will my whole heart, even the part that is empty.
I told Beau that I was gong to stop blogging, stop writing.
La Petite Belle has been over 75% of my writings and she’s gone. I don’t know if there’s anything else to say nor write. But, he disagreed with me. This blog was started so that my girls would be able to read about their mom and their lives after I was the one who was gone. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.
I don’t know anything. Zilch. Nothing.
I don’t know what the future holds. 
I don’t know where our path will lead.
I will keep this blog right here for now.
I will not depend on my own understanding.
I will trust with my whole heart.
Thank you all for your prayers and support through the years. We can never repay you, but we know someone who will. We pray God blesses you abundantly for your faithful generosity to us!

Here’s one last tribute to our amazing daughter…

You can view her memorial service here. It was truly a wonderful celebration to who she was.